


On Responsibility

by natcat5



Category: Young Avengers
Genre: Civil War (Marvel), M/M, Mentions of Imprisonment, Suicidal Thoughts, Young Avengers Vol. 2 (2013), depressed and suicidal character being really in denial about being depressed and suicidal, depressed character, mentions of torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-06
Updated: 2015-09-06
Packaged: 2018-04-19 07:31:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4737878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/natcat5/pseuds/natcat5
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s about responsibility, and being held accountable for your actions.</p><p>He doesn’t have to tell Teddy, doesn’t have to tell anyone because-</p><p>Because-</p><p>It wasn’t like a <i>suicide</i> suicide attempt. He wasn’t- it wasn’t because-</p><p>He was just trying to fix what he had broken. Clean up the mess that he had made.</p><p>Take responsibility.</p>
            </blockquote>





	On Responsibility

**Author's Note:**

> *warning The main focus of this story is suicidal thoughts so if that's a potential trigger proceed with caution.

 

Billy’s hands won’t stop shaking.

The gun is cool, a metal that’s almost a plastic, but humming with latent energy. The nozzle fits neatly under his chin, his finger resting on the trigger. It’s light. It doesn’t feel like a gun at all. It feels like nothing.

Click-boom. That’s all it will take.

Pull the trigger, and Mother goes away.

Take one for the team, and the people he cares about, the people who trust and have faith in him, won’t have to suffer anymore.

_Breathe in._

This is how the memory goes.

His hands won’t stop shaking. His eyes are burning- with exhaustion, with a power high, with unshed tears –and the skin on his face feels pulled too tight, taut.

When he closes his mouth for even a moment, he feels the weight of the mouthgard, of the heavy metal muzzle they put on him. There weren’t ear implants this time, or internal power dampeners, but Tony Stark has never had much love of magic, and the memory of the Scarlet Witch turning against her teammates and family must have stung potently in the wake of the war. They had him strapped down, drugged up, and he swears he can still hear it, the steady dripping of the drug down through the IV, into his veins, into his blood.

But that’s not what this memory is about.

His hands won’t stop shaking, his eyes are burning, his mouth is dry and the spell he used to flush the toxins from his body is doing nothing for the phantom feeling of tubes shoved into his arms.

But all he can think about, all he can focus on, is Captain America being put into cuffs in front of them.

He wants to scream, to shout, to cry, but others have beaten him to it. Falcon, Patriot, Daredevil- and all Wiccan can do is stumble, mouth wide open and gasping, barely registering the feeling of his boyfriend’s arms wrapping around him, his voice whispering ‘We need to go, Billy, we need to go before Stark changes his mind-’

Captain America is arrested. The rest of them are pardoned.

This is how the memory ends.

Teddy’s arms encircling him, holding him close, or caging him in, preventing him from lunging forwards, towards Cap. Tommy, one hand on his shoulder, steadying and supporting his brother as much as he is using him to anchor himself, prevent himself from racing forward. Vision, gaze distant and pained, centered on Cassie on the other side of the battlefield, her lips mouthing ‘go, _go’_ over and over. Kate, crying. Eli, also crying. And both arguing, as always.

‘We can’t let them just take him. I can’t believe we’re all standing here and letting them take him!’ snarls Eli, angry tears leaking past his mask.

‘He’s doing it for Stark to let the rest of us go.’ Kate retorts, her voice shaking, her hands white-knuckled around her bow. ‘He’s doing it for us, he’s doing it for the rest of us to get away. He knows that someone needs to be held accountable.’

Eli sucks in a breath, and turns away from her sharply, hands in fists at his side.

‘Captain America is _not_ expendable,’ he says, voice breaking.

Except he was, when weighed against the lives and freedom of all those who put their trust in him. Who followed him, no matter how much crazy shit he hauled them through. His friends. His teammates.

_Pull the trigger, and Mother goes away._

You have to take responsibility for the shit you drag your teammates into. The shit you drag your friends into. When you’re a superhero, sometimes your life weighs less than you thought it did. Sometimes, when the situation calls for it, when you’re backed into a corner, every chance of backup brainwashed, your friends about to be torn apart and your magic stolen, your life is more expendable than you thought.

It’s about responsibility. And accountability.

Billy’s hands won’t stop shaking.

But he’s done thinking about it.

Pull the trigger. Click-boom. Over in an instant.

_Please don’t let Teddy be the one to find me…_

He’s not.

It’s Loki, leaping out of nowhere to knock the gun out of his hand, sending the green ray of energy blasting into the ceiling instead.

He’s cursing as he crashes into him, like this isn’t the best option, like this isn’t the only way, like the little ass didn’t suggest this like five minutes ago-

“Plan A before Plan B, Billy,” Loki says, and he could try and decipher whether or not that’s genuine remorse in the god’s tone, but he’s trying too hard to not break down crying.

There’s still a battle going on.

Because Mother is still here.

 _This is my fault,_ Billy thinks, even as Loki’s spell sends his magic coursing through his friends, gives them all the power to break free and get away. _This is my responsibility._

And yet, he’s so relieved when he’s given an out, a new way, a new solution. When they get away and there’s hope for the future that doesn’t involve him with a gun shoved under his jaw.

He justifies it to himself. Teddy would be so upset if he died-

_(-but he has Kate and the others, and your parents and brothers love him, you’re not the only person in his life, how can you be so self-absorbed, not everything revolves around you, God no wonder he yelled at you-)_

-and his parents would never forgive themselves if they remembered. Or they wouldn’t remember and never know what happened, why he did it-

_(-you’ve done nothing but mess things up, they were possessed because of you, you dragged them into this world of superheroes and magic, you ruined their perfect family, soul-son of the Scarlet Witch, secret twin brother, half-alien boyfriend, it’s too much, how could you expect them to put up with it, they’d be able to go back to normal, finally, finally-)_

-and he’s going to learn how to better control his magic. From Loki. Which is not ideal, but it’s fine, he’ll do it, and he’ll banish Mother, and they’ll go home.

_(Useless. Useless. Most of your magic gone. Fleeing through space. This would be over for them. Your friends would all be home if you’d just been brave enough. Just taken responsibility.)_

Billy stares past the twinkling star patterns on his costume to the swirling darkness behind it, and he wishes he could just close his eyes and sleep for a few days.

_This is all your fault. But you’re taking the easy way out anyways._

He didn’t want to pull the trigger. He really didn’t want to.

But this would all be over if he had. And he can’t forget that.

Time passes. And it’s. It’s not horrible. It’s not great but he’s- somehow he’s having fun. Because, okay, maybe Teddy was right. He _is_ a superhero, he loves being one, and facing shitty situations is what he does. What he always does. He likes being back in action, and while he’d never admit it, he’s learning more about magic from Loki than he ever learned in his year and a half of assbackwards self study. It’s hard and it’s frustrating but he’s enjoying it.

And he’s missed it. Being out with friends, being with a team.

He misses Cassie.

He misses Eli.

He misses Jonas.

He misses Tommy.

He even misses Nate, who he used to be.

But he also feels like he’s honouring them better by being active, by fighting, then he was sitting in his room.

The word _responsibility_ and _accountability_ still hiss in his ears. But the situation is more complicated now. He needs to find Tommy and he needs to figure out what the Patri-Not is and he needs to find a universe with Graham Norton for Noh. And some days are terrible, but some days aren’t and there’s always breakfast waiting somewhere. He’s actually making progress in his lessons with Loki, and he thinks that, yes, he can do this, he can learn enough to beat Mother, he can pull this off-

And then-

Teddy-

He-

Well.

Billy can’t blame him. The House of M happened, after all. And everyone seems to assume that he has the same potential to alter lives and reality to fit his own whims and fancies. So it’s not far-fetched, he supposes, to suspect that he unconsciously magicked up his boyfriend.

He doesn’t know if he can blame himself for this or not. He can’t help his magic being what it is. But maybe, if this thing with Mother hadn’t happened, Teddy wouldn’t have thought about it, and-

But is that fair? Wishing he’d never considered it? It’s not. It’s not fair. Because what if- what if Billy _had_ -

No. _No._ Because then whatever spell he unconsciously cast would have shorted out when Mother’s arrival first tied up his magic. Or when he was imprisoned during the war. That makes sense, doesn’t it? Why can’t Teddy see that?

It comes back to Billy being useless, obviously. Because if their relationship was more even, if it wasn’t all give give give on Teddy’s end and take take take on his, then Teddy wouldn’t have any reason to believe that he’d brainwashed him, or straight up created him to be the perfect boyfriend. Because how else could he end up in such a great relationship? Billy, selfish, useless, irresponsible, stubborn, impulsive. Got Cassie and Jonas killed, made Eli quit, drove Tommy away, got them all hunted by a parasite with Teddy’s mother’s face-

_Breathe in._

He left the window months ago.

_Grow up, Billy. You can’t wallow in your problems. It’s that selfishness that pushed Teddy away in the first place._

He just needs space. This is fixable. Focus on beating Mother.

_If you’d pulled the trigger months ago, this wouldn’t be happening at all._

_No,_ he snarls back at his own thoughts, _because I’d be_ dead.

He’s not suicidal. He’s _not._ Any thoughts about blowing his brains out are because of responsibility, not, not-

He can’t do it now though. It’s the furthest thing from an option now. It’s irresponsible, and it’s him being selfish again, but even if it would get rid of Mother, he can’t do that to Teddy. If Billy pulled the trigger now, Teddy would think it was because of him, even though it’s not, it’s not, it’s about accountability, but he wouldn’t understand and he’d never forgive himself, and Billy can’t do that to him. He can’t.

Until-

Until the game changes.

Until Mother has Teddy.

His brain can’t even process it. It shorts out. His thoughts narrow down into Point A and Point B. Point A being Noh’s guns, and Point B being freeing Teddy. The part in between is something of a blur.

He does know, of course he knows, that the middle part involves killing himself, removing his magic from the spell and sending Mother back to where she came from. But it’s- it’s inconsequential. Or, an acceptable consequence. A regrettable, but nonnegotiable expenditure.

He’s numb. He won’t go so far as to say he’s at peace with it, no he’s not that, but there’s a welcome calm that steals over him. There will be no wavering back and forth on this. There are no ifs and buts if Mother has Teddy. There’s just the trigger, and Billy, and Billy’s terrible magic, so like his mother’s, so incapable of bringing forth anything but destruction and chaos. Once it’s gone, Mother will be too. And Teddy will be safe.

Click-boom.

Even when Loki bursts in on him, again, his calm remains unflappable. Because there’s nothing, nothing that he can say that will dissuade Billy from this. If he’d just done it right at the beginning, if he’d taken responsibility instead of taking the coward’s way out, Mother wouldn’t have Teddy, Tommy might not be missing, and-

He should have done this months ago. There’s nothing anyone can say to change his mind of that.

“Billy, I’m sorry. I lied.”

Except maybe that.

He should probably feel relieved, off the hook, when Loki tells him that he was lying. That a single trigger can’t be the solution to all of their problems. But instead he just feels deep, bone-shattering despair.

There’s no quick fix to the mistake he made. There’s no sure fire way to get Teddy back. There’s no quick fix to the mistake he made. There’s no way to take sole responsibility, to absolve his friends of having to shoulder any more of this bullshit, to deal with it all himself. There’s no quick fix to the mistake he made.

Billy has never hated himself more in his entire life.

But he gets over it. Or forces himself to push past it. Because this means they’ve got a limited amount of time to come up with a plan to fix this, and make sure it works.

It’s all he can do to stop his head from spinning right off, he can’t stop thinking about Teddy, he can’t let himself think about Teddy because he’ll start to cry, he wishes he’d just shot himself, but that’s stupid, because Loki said- that-

Loki was lying.

But which time? Which was the lie?

_Maybe you should pull the trigger, just in case._

The thought is invasive and terrifying and Billy shudders away from it. That _would_ be the coward’s way out, if Loki were telling the truth the second time. If his death doesn’t do anything, then all pulling the trigger would do is push all the responsibility of cleaning up his mess onto his friends.

And besides, he doesn’t want to die. Not for no reason. That’s not what he became a superhero for.

That old memory, Captain America’s back receding in the distance, surrounded on all sides and his hands cuffed behind him, surfaces to his mind.

Billy is so tired.

But he can use this, he thinks. This fatigue, this weariness. If he’s- if he’s supposed to be some kind of God, with some kind of all-seeing power, then feeling like the weight of the world is on his shoulders is probably a sensation that he’s going to be intimately familiar with.

So he focuses on it, centers himself with it, and thinks _Demiurge, Demiurge,_ with as much divinity as he can muster.

The power to see countless realities and worlds, to have the power to reach in and change them. The potential to fuck it all up horribly. The responsibility to manage his magic, the realities he creates, and the improbabilities he makes real.

 _Accountability,_ he thinks, _Prove you’re worthy of holding the stars in your hands. Prove you know what cause and effect mean. Prove you know what it feels like to hold everything on your shoulders._

Magic, past and future, being responsible for all of that can’t feel much heavier then being responsible for the lives of your friends.

Cassie. Jonas.

Teddy.

_What does it mean, to be responsible for everything?_

Captain America came back for everyone who had been captured, and then let himself be hauled away so that none of them would be imprisoned again.

_Breathe out._

**_Demiurge._ **

It works for awhile, but Mother’s existence is built on finding chinks, weaknesses, and exploiting them. She finds the cracks in the web of magic he spins around himself, her voice whispers, claws at the edges of his mind, and he can feel everything within him wavering, even as he stubbornly refuses to leave the protective spell circle that’s slowly but surely fraying.

Then, Teddy.

Oh, Teddy.

Seeing him does a hundred and one complicated things to the inside of Billy’s chest. It hurts, and it feels right, and he doesn’t know how the kiss can simultaneously feel like it’s tearing him apart and stitching him back together.

Living hurts. It always has.

And the difference dawns on him then, in a moment of clarity so vivid that it startles him. It’s not just about shouldering the responsibility for mistakes, for potential failures. It’s about holding the joys, the possibilities, and the miracles in his hands as well. It’s all painful, it’s all heavy, but it’s all part of the same weight, of being alive.

It’s a little cheesy, but he thinks he finally gets it.

And his magic responds accordingly.

He beats Mother, obliterates her, actually, and he does it without pulling the trigger on a gun pressed to his throat. It’s satisfying and overwhelming and Billy has never felt so elated and relieved in his life. He did it. He fixed his mistake.

It’s over.

\--

Except, it’s not.

Billy rides the victory high for a good couple of days, through the New Years’ party, through finding Tommy, through their last breakfast all together at the best Korean barbecue place in the multiverse, and past the first teary-eyed night they spend back at home. He and Teddy talk, and talk, and both apologize like fifty times and both make it clear that they’re going to be straight (well, figuratively) with each other from now on. They’re going to communicate, and keep no secrets, and definitely not keep anything bottled up.

Billy successfully represses the whole ‘intended to kill yourself. Twice.’ elephant for three days after getting home before the guilt starts eating him alive.

He needs to tell Teddy.

He really, really doesn’t want to tell Teddy.

Because he knows how it will sound. Two instances of him being ready to put a trigger to his skull, only a few months after his mother was whispering the word ‘anti-depressants’ to his dad like Billy didn’t have ears? Oh yeah, he knows how it will sound.

If this worries Teddy enough, he might tell Billy’s parents. No, he’ll definitely tell Billy’s mother, and that’s-

Billy doesn’t want them all looking at him like he’s broken again. Or like he’s a bomb just ticking down to the moment he’ll implode.

Because it’s not what they’ll think. He wasn’t trying to- The only thing he wanted to end was Mother’s reign of terror and her parasitic hold on his parents and all the other adults in their life. He didn’t actually _want_ to die.

He was ready to die, but he didn’t _want_ to.

There’s a _difference._

…

He doesn’t want to tell Teddy. At all.

But that’s not a good way to start this whole ‘open communication’ thing in their relationship. And he really doesn’t want there to be any secrets between them. Not after everything they’ve been through.

So he sucks it up, calls Teddy into his bedroom, sits on his bed beside him, plays with his fingers for a little it, and then bites the bullet. Figuratively.

He’s laid it all out in his head, how to say it so that Teddy _understands_ that it wasn’t, like, a _suicide_ suicide thing. It was just what was allegedly the best option in a shitty situation that he had caused and was desperately trying to hold himself accountable for.

Even having planned it out, it all comes tumbling out in a gush of words, half-starts, and apologies. He stares at his feet and bites at his lip and tries to make it _clear_ that he hadn’t wanted to kill himself for the purpose of killing himself, but solely to stop Mother, and it’s not a big deal, it didn’t happen, but he just thinks Teddy should know, but it would be great if Teddy didn’t overreact or freak out, because it’s in the past, it was a product of a shitty situation, and it has no bearing on his state of mind, so _please don’t tell his mother_.

He realizes he’s rambling, so he shuts his mouth abruptly and takes a breath, fingers clutching at the cloth of his pants.

It takes a few long seconds for him to work up the courage to lift his head and look at Teddy’s face. He’s not sure if he’s expecting anger, or shock, or…

Teddy’s eyes are shut tight, his face scrunched up as if he’s trying not to cry. One hand shakily rises to press against his forehead, and Billy feels his heart sink.

Angry Teddy he can handle. Angry Teddy he deserves. But devastated Teddy, with tears in his eyes? No no no no no this is the worst this is the absolute _worst._

“God, Billy, I just-,” Teddy pinches the bridge of his nose, and he hasn’t turned to look at him yet, hasn’t looked at Billy at all. Billy squeezes his arm lightly, and Teddy unsteadily drops his hand, sucking in a breath.

“Why do you think Loki said it, huh?” he asks abruptly, face still turned away, “That, that killing you would break the spell. Why did he say that if it was a lie?”

The question catches Billy off-balance and he blinks rapidly, mouth flapping uselessly for a few seconds. “To…to manipulate me because he’s a piece of shit?”

Teddy takes another deep breath, covering the hand Billy has on his arm with his own.

“Yes, and no. It wasn’t just to manipulate you, Billy. It was to manipulate _us._ ” His voice breaks, and he finally, _finally_ turns to look at Billy, blue eyes squinty with unshed tears.“Give Loki power or Billy dies. It wasn’t actually a _choice._ He knew that killing you _wasn’t an option,_ because _you’re not expendable._ He said it because he didn’t think, for even a second, that any of us would actually consider it. Leaving us with only giving him power as the choice to take. Because you’re not freaking expendable, Billy!”

Billy’s mouth hangs open uselessly, and he finds himself fighting to keep his breathing steady as Teddy pulls him into his chest, wrapping his arms around him and holding him tight.

“No matter what!” Teddy whisper-shouts, face pressed into Billy’s hair. “No matter the situation! It doesn’t matter if the world’s fucking falling down around us, you’re _not_ \- You dying is not an option that’s _ever_ on the table.”

He’s shaking, Billy can feel him shaking, and he closes his eyes, reaching up to hug Teddy back. This is so, so much worse than if he had been angry. There’s a sob rattling around in his chest, and he feels his eyes start to burn. Oh god, he really hadn’t wanted to start crying. He really hadn’t wanted this to be a _thing._

“I didn’t _want_ to,” he says weakly, words muffled by Teddy’s shoulder, “I- I-, it was just, it was all my fault and if there was a way to fix it that only hurt me and not everyone else I dragged into my stupid mess, then it just made sense to-,”

“Billy, _no,”_ groans Teddy, pulling him in tighter, “No, no, no, that’s not _true._ ”

“What do you _mean_ it’s not true?!” demands Billy, pushing back, “It _was_ my fault. So if there was a way that I could-,”

“No Billy, because we’re a team, and we’re family, and you don’t _ever_ have to shoulder everything alone. You just _don’t,_ Billy. That’s not how it works!”

Teddy’s voice cracks, and it makes Billy’s chest aches. He slumps against his boyfriend, breath shaky.

“But it was my fault,” he says miserably, tears rolling down his face, “Teddy, it was all my fault.”

Teddy makes a terrible sound, deep in the back of his throat. “Then it wasn’t about responsibility was it?” he says hoarsely, “It was about punishing yourself.”

Billy stiffens.

No.

No that isn’t true.

Being responsible is not the same thing as being _punished._

“It’s not a _punishment_ if you’re fixing a mistake you made,” he tries to counter, but his voice is weak and wobbly with tears. Teddy pulls away so that they’re looking into each other’s faces, and he cups Billy’s face in his hands.

“Billy,” he’s shaking, his entire body is shaking, “Billy, nothing is _fixed_ if you’re not with us. Nothing is fixed if you’re dead. Being a superhero means we put our lives in danger, yeah, but you never, _never_ get to choose dying as a solution. Not when you still have a team around you, ready to support you, ready to be with you. Not when there’s _always_ another way out we can find. Your life is worth too much, Billy. It doesn’t matter how responsible you feel. If you want to be held accountable, you _live_ to fix your mistakes, you don’t die for them.”

Teddy’s expression softens, and he brushes a thumb across Billy cheek. “Isn’t that what we told Wanda?”

Billy’s breath catches in his chest, and his mouth hangs open uselessly, all retorts dying on his tongue. He squeezes his eyes shut, more tears leaking out the corners, and Teddy pulls him into another hug.

“Please don’t tell mom,” he says quietly, after a few minutes have past, “Teddy, please don’t.”

Teddy sighs shakily, one hand running through Billy’s hair. “Fine. I won’t say anything. But _you_ are going to tell _someone,_ Billy. I’m serious. You’re talking to someone about all of this. It’s non-negotiable. I can’t- you can’t have stuff like this bottled up. I don’t care if you think you can just put it in the past. _I_ don’t think so. So if you don’t want to talk to your mom, you need to arrange to talk to someone else. Someone _licensed._ ”

“ ‘m not depressed,” mumbles Billy defensively, face pressed to Teddy’s shoulder. Because this is all sounding a bit too familiar. And it’s not about that, he left the window, it’s not like that at _all-_

“Doesn’t matter,” retorts Teddy, without heat, “You’re talking to someone. Those are my terms. We agreed?”

Billy doesn’t want to talk to someone. He doesn’t want to revisit what happened ever again, because talking about it just now was horrible and he honestly just wants to leave everything in the past. Doesn’t want to dwell on it. He gets a sick feeling whenever he thinks about how close he came to killing himself, but he also gets a guilty feeling, like he should feel bad that he didn’t go through with it.

He doesn’t know if Teddy overreacted or not. He’s suddenly having a hard time gauging the magnitude of things, wondering if maybe he’s been treating the double near-death experiences too flippantly, or if he’s being weak for letting Teddy soothe his guilt so easily.

In a disconnected kind of way, he knows that that’s not right. He thinks of Wanda, and how desperately he wanted her to shake herself free from the guilt of her past, to not weigh herself down with self-imposed shackles, to not drive herself to despair over accountability.

Huh. Maybe it’s genetic.

“Yeah, okay,” Billy says quietly, eyes still closed. “Okay Tee, I’ll talk to someone.”

Sometimes the responsible thing is to live. He forgot that. He made himself forget that.

He’ll try not to make the same mistake in the future.

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> was originally going to be part of the Billy Kaplan oneshots I've posted on my tumblr but it grew to big so here it is on its own.


End file.
